


The Z Diaries

by sourwulfur



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Apocalypse, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, End of the World, Magic Stiles, Multi, Pack Family, WIP, and death, it is a zombie story, reuinon, split pack, there will be bloody messes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwulfur/pseuds/sourwulfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Stilinski and Stiles moved across the country half-way through his junior year after he found out about his son's relationship with one Derek Hale. He thought separation would be good for them. Only a few weeks later, it happened. The virus broke out and the world fell apart. Zombies. Who knew? Survivors fight their way to safe places, hoping to find a place to rebuild society, and maybe even run in to some old friends along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entry One

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was watching Resident Evil 3 this morning and realized our dear PapaStilinski was one of the people in it. Obviously, it lead to this little plot bunny. So, I grabbed hold and let it run off with me. Let's do this. *srs face*

_So, remembering what my therapist from before said, I’m going to start taking up this stupid journaling thing again. Here's hoping it might help me sort through my thoughts when I need the help._

 

_I remember it like it was yesterday. The house was already packed up, not that I helped any, and I could not sleep. We were leaving before sunrise the next morning, sometime around four in the morning. I just felt like throwing things or something manly like that. Okay, so I wanted to cry. Big deal. I’ll admit it. My dad was taking me away from Derek, the only person I’ve ever cared for in a way that was not platonic. It was only supposed to be a year, until my eighteenth birthday. Derek had promised I would find him on my doorstep the day I turned eighteen. Of course, that won't happen now._

 

_The world has ended. Those zombie things are everywhere. We keep trying to outrun them, to find more survivors. It's slow going, though. We've picked up a few strays, such as the Argents, who had been on vacation when the virus broke out; but, there's not been a safe place, yet. That is what we are searching for, safety. There are rumors of a compound in Colorado, and other rumors that we needed to head to the middle of the United States, that we would find safety there._

 

_Allison has been teaching me how to use the bow and arrow, but I’ve not picked up on it yet. I’m a better shot than I’ve ever been, and I’ve been teaching Allison more on using blades. Somehow, I picked up on that really easily with Lizzy’s help. It's how Allison and I are helping each other stay distracted and focused on what is going on around us, instead of worrying all the time about things we cannot change and people we cannot reach._

 

_So, this is how I am going to spend my eighteenth birthday: not knowing if the people I care about are alive, not knowing if I’ll survive the day, watching the camp perimeter while we regroup and gather supplies from this small town we're stopped in. I think we're somewhere in South Carolina. Either way, Lizzy is calling for me._

 

_-Stiles_

 

He had not slept well since leaving Beacon Hills, and it was visible in the dark circles under Stiles' eyes as he yawned and shoved the journal into his small backpack that had a small first aid kit, a bottle of the Adderall that they had been gathering for him whenever they can, and a bottle of water as well as a few off-brand granola bars they had grabbed at their last stop. He picked up the bag and left the tent that he shared with Allison, Chris, and his dad, scratching the side of his head as he went over to where Lizzy, their group leader was standing by the fire pit. “S'up, boss?” Stiles said with an amused smirk as she rolled her eyes, straightening the ball cap she wore on her head.

 

“Go take over for Allison, she looks dead on her feet,” replied Lizzy before they both winced at the poor choice of words. “Sorry.”

 

Stiles waved it off with a yawn before saying, “Which border is she on?”

 

“She's got the southern area. Be careful.”

 

“Always.” With a nod and a boyish grin that did not quite reach his eyes, Stiles made his way over to where Allison was stationed. She was leaning against a dying tree, lips pursed as her brow furrowed and she stayed focused on the horizon in front of her, glancing over the length of it. “Hey, Ali,” Stiles said as he came up behind her, smiling as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “I'm here to take over for you.”

 

Allison let out a soft, relieved sigh as she reached up to put her bow back into the quiver she wore on her back, brushing her long hair out of her face. “Thanks, Stiles,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “We should be heading out tomorrow morning. Dad and Lizzy were talking; it's too dangerous to stay here much longer.”

 

Stiles nodded a little, mumbling an agreement before telling Allison to head to the tent to get some rest. As she did, Stiles dropped his bag to the ground by the tree, double checking (more like triple checking) that he had his guns in the holster strapped to his torso, and the extra ammo in the too-big pockets of the pants he had to keep up with a belt. One of the legs had been torn, exposing most of his shin, while the other had been trimmed so they weren't too long and a tripping hazard. Allison only got a few feet away before she turned to look at her friend and said, “Oh, by the way? Happy birthday, Stiles.”

 

Stiles laughed softly with a smile, ruffling his lengthening hair that he really needed to cut again, sighing as he said, “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

The teen leaned against the tree after Allison left, crossing his arms over his chest before sitting down on the ground. He had at least five hours or more before he would be relieved for a meal break, and then it would be back to work. He wanted to do something on that day specifically. It kept him from thinking so much. He studied the maps they had, trying to figure out which would be the best routes to take, trying to avoid major cities and completely deserted areas. They needed a route that had stops decently spaced out. Plus, he had a bestiary, something he still studied, even after leaving Beacon Hills. He felt safer with it, not knowing if the whole virus thing effected _any_ of the supernatural beings or not. So far, they had not run into anything; but, he, Allison, and Chris were all very cautious.

 

From their thoughts, the virus would either not effect the werewolves at all (seeing as they did heal themselves, so that would probably fight it off), or it could turn their healing against themselves and they turn to zombies that much faster. They had no proof one way or another yet, and Stiles was seriously hoping for the first. The witches probably would not be any different than any other human, but once again, they had no proof of that. Chris was hoping that the werewolves' healing ability would cancel out the virus, because if so, there was a chance that they could figure out how to take that and turn it into a _cure_. The hypothetical cure would probably only work on people who have not turned yet, but honestly, there was no _real_ idea. It was all just bullshit thoughts over meals around the fire.

 

It took Stiles a while before his distractions weren't distracting enough anymore. He found a page that was littered with modifications and notes in Derek’s handwriting. It made Stiles' breath catch in his chest for a moment and he ran his fingers over the familiar lettering, laughing softly with a faint smile. He missed Derek, a lot. He could not keep from hoping that Derek was alive. What if he wasn't? That idea made Stiles grip on the bestiary tighten to the point his knuckles were white and his chest tightened. He took a few moments to push all negative thoughts aside and focus on breathing, slowly calming himself down to the point he could breathe again, until a hand was placed on his shoulder, making him jump. “Jesus,” he breathed, laughing airily as he rested his head back against the tree, a relieved smile on his face when he saw Chris Argent standing there. “Hey.”

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Chris said with a faint smile, though it was more worried than anything, which Stiles could see in the way that the man's brow was pinched and the look of worry never left his eyes. “Go take a meal break. I’ve got this. Try to get more sleep, too. You can come back in a few hours.”

 

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue, fidgeting in place for a moment before sighing with a nod. He put his book into his bag and started to stand, taking Chris' hand when the man offered to help him up. “Thanks,” the teen said, managing a smile before heading farther in camp toward the fire pit, where Allison was sitting, wearing one of Scott's jackets tugged tightly around her. Stiles frowned faintly for a moment, wishing there was a way he could ease her worry. Nothing would be able to do that until she saw Scott again, he knew that. It was the same for him with Derek, though. She could reassure him all she wanted. It did not change that he just did not know. That was worse than anything.

 

He sighed and walked over to sit down next to her, smiling when she looked at him. “Get any sleep yet?” he asked, nudging her a little before offering her one of his granola bars. They were the good ones, the ones with chocolate drizzled over the top.

 

“Not yet. I don't... I don't like to sleep,” she answered as she took the granola bar, smiling softly in thanks. “Bad dreams.”

 

“Yeah...” Stiles nodded a little, fiddling with the wrapper on is own snack, glancing toward the flames dancing in front of them, immediately making him think of Lydia. “Sometimes, I think I hear one of them; Jackson, Scott, or Derek... Then I look around, and they're not there. I miss them. I miss Derek.”

 

Allison squeezed her friend's arm gently, the two of them leaning in to one another slightly. She felt worse for Stiles than she did for herself. She had seen Scott a lot more recently than Stiles had seen Derek. The other two had been forcefully separated, while Allison had been on vacation. She was supposed to return home, while none of them had had any idea when or if Stiles would ever come home. “He's still got that hoodie you left over at his place, the lacrosse team one?” she said with a soft smile, resting her head on Stiles' shoulder when he hugged her close, both of them forgetting the granola bar snacks. “He'd wear it from time to time. None of us said anything, but Scott teased him once.”

 

Stiles smiled softly, not knowing that his dad was listening from a few feet behind them. “You should have heard Scott talk about you,” Stiles offered, absentmindedly toying with the ends of her hair with one hand. “You were his sun, his anchor. As much as it would be annoying at times, it was probably the cutest thing ever. Nearly gave me cavities.”

 

She laughed softly, turning her head to hide her face against Stiles' shoulder, taking comfort in his embrace. They had never been especially close before, but their friendship was stronger than ever. Going through a zombie apocalypse did that to you, he guessed. Stiles glanced up as his dad finally walked over and past the teens to sit down on a make-shift bench next to them. Stiles smiled at his dad, shifting in place a little, without disturbing Allison, who was slowly starting to drift off. “For what it's worth,” the sheriff said after a few long, quiet moments, making his son look over at him from the fire he had been staring at, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...”

 

“Don't,” replied Stiles with a shake of his head, smiling faintly. “It's... it's not okay, but I understand why you wanted to do this. I love you, too, Dad.”

 

Stiles was still hurt by being forced away from Derek, but he did understand that his dad had only been doing what he thought was right. Stiles still thought it was wrong, but they did not have to agree. He knew his dad loved and cared about him, only wanting what was best. The teen could easily see how any parent would look at Derek and immediately think that he was not what was best. Derek was rough around the edges, and older than Stiles; but, that did not change the fact that Stiles cared deeply for him, maybe even loved him. Now, Stiles was not sure he would ever be able to tell the man that had shoved his way into Stiles' life.

 

* * *

 

 

“Allison, wake up!” Stiles said sharply, not bothering to gently wake her. He was shoving things into bags as his dad rushed into the tent to do the same. She sat up and looked around, disoriented and confused, but then she heard the shouts that they had to hurry.

 

“How many?” she asked, throwing off the sleeping bag to gather only the important things, slipping her quiver onto her back.

 

“Too many,” came John Stilinski's answer before they rushed out of the tent, grabbing anything important along the way as they ran toward the armored cars that they had forged over time. “Chris!”

 

Allison inhaled sharply, quickly drawing out an arrow before firing it at a zombie that was chasing after one of the younger members of their caravan. “Run, Alisa!” Allison called, drawing another arrow as she continued moving, glancing over at Stiles, who already had his gun drawn and had taken out quite a few, tossing bags into the RV that they used when he had a moment before going back to taking out as many of the zombies as he could.

 

Stiles swore softly as he watched one of their own get bit, wincing as another member did the right thing to end the man's misery. Not only did the virus hurt as it turned you, but the risk of the bit turning everyone else was too great. They all already had a pact in place. If one was to be bit, another would take them out without second thought. Period. They were out to survive, not to die from the inside of their safety.

 

“Go, go, go! Everyone, come on!” Stiles heard Lizzy through the CB radio installed in the RV. He tugged on Allison’s arm so they could climb into the RV, closing all the doors and barricading them, locking them from the inside as John settled in the passenger seat and Chris drove. “Stiles, heading?”

 

“Shit!” swore the teen as he quickly scrambled to grab one of the maps they had, taking it toward the front to grab the mic. “Keep heading straight. We'll hit the highway that'll take us to the interstate we want. It'll be a _right_.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Stiles sighed and put the mic back in place before moving away to drop down into one of the seats. He closed his eyes for a moment before glancing down at his still-shaking hands, trying to focus on staying calm. Luckily, the herd had been spotted early enough that most of them could get out of there. Lizzy called for a role call, and it was soon discovered that they only lost one of their group. “A new low,” Stiles mumbled to himself with a bitter laugh. He rested his head back against the wall, glancing over at Allison with a faint smile. “These are the days I would give anything to be bitching about getting tangled up in the affairs of werewolves.”


	2. Entry Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At rest stop, a few familiar faces make themselves known, but not all is well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know what to say here beyond "thanks" and "enjoy"! Thanks to [Lidil](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidil/pseuds/Lidil) for pointing out an error on my part!

_So, we've spent the last few days traveling, only stopping for a few hours at a time to rest and gather supplies as needed. I have busied myself with reading and picking the best route for us to take. Despite there being no traffic, it is slow going. We keep having to stop for supplies or rest, or to avoid **heards** of the damn zombies. And I used to think alpha packs were the most of my worries. Ha! Anyway, we've lost a few more members, including Alisa’s mother. She rides with Lizzy now. Allison and I continue to keep each other busy. We tell each other stories of our mothers, the happier times with them. It's difficult to think of Mrs. Argent as anything more than a monster, but she had loved Allison._

 

_Some of the zombies seem stronger than the original wave. None of them have super speed or healing abilities, though, so that's good. People are shouting. That would be my queue to go._

 

_-Stiles_

 

Stiles shoved the journal into his bag before he exited the RV. There was a huge commotion as a bunch of survivors showed up on the outskirts of their camp. They looked exhausted. Traveling on foot after having run out of gas, as one of their members stated they had done, would do that. There were no more than a dozen of them, and there were more than enough supplies and room for them to combine forces. Lizzy agreed to let the. It was then that Stiles spotted a couple familiar faces in the bunch, though none of them seemed to really be paying attention to their surroundings, or at least one of them would have known Stiles and Allison were there already. “Dr. Deaton, Isaac!” he exclaimed, making everyone look at him, including the mentioned to. Isaac grinned after a moment, and realization hit him, as Stiles and Allison quickly went over to hug them both.

 

“They're from our hometown,” Stiles heard his dad explain to Lizzy, who nodded and smiled in response.

 

She could only imagine the slight relief the two teens felt. Isaac did not want to let Stiles go, she noticed, hanging on to the other boy's wrist tightly. Stiles seemed to soothe and comfort the curly haired teen, actually reaching up to ruffle Isaac’s hair.

 

After a few introductions were made, positions were taken back up while Deaton, Stiles, Isaac, Allison, Chris, and John all sat together by the fire, eating as they caught up on the important things. “We had to separate from the rest of the pack,” the veterinarian explained. “It was safer in smaller groups. Derek, Scott, and Jackson were still alive when we parted.”

 

“Lydia, and...?” Stiles throat was thick and he felt like getting sick. He could not bring himself to finish his question, but everyone knew he was asking about her, Erica, and Boyd; the unmentioned.

 

Isaac whined softly as Stiles hugged him and Allison close to either side of him. Dr. Deaton frowned and shook his head. “Lydia was bitten. She... well, she could not get _the_ bite, so she requested to be... euthanized before it was too late. Erica and Boyd were killed in an explosion. It was an accident.”

 

Stiles nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he wanted to just break down in tears. His friends... his _pack_. He barely heard Deaton telling Chris that they did not know the effect of the virus on werewolves, either. They had not had any of the wolves get bitten, and they were not going to take chances by attempting a risky experiment. The adults continued to talk as Stiles sat there, absently running his fingers through Isaac’s hair and holding Allison to his other side. He tried to focus on the rhythmic action of his hand, but it grew more difficult as time went by.

 

Isaac was the first to notice, and a loud whine from him alerted the others that there was something wrong. He sat up fully, looking at Stiles, who was completely tense, ashen colored as he struggled to be able to take in a breath. “Stiles?” Allison questioned softly, tears springing to her eyes as the other teen trembled slightly in his seat. His neck was flushed and there was a sweat on his face, as he quickly jumped up and _ran_.

 

“Stiles!” his dad called after him, but he did not stop.

 

Stiles was not sure where he was running to, or how he was, considering each breath he forced in was painful and made his chest feel like he was on fire, like he was drowning or something. He did not stop until he ran right into someone's arms, someone who pulled him close. It was not until he slowly started to calm down at the person's assurance that he was fine, that he needed to breathe, that he realized it was his dad. He had made his dad follow him out past the perimeter, where neither of them were safe. “Just breathe, Stiles,” the sheriff said softly, closing his eyes as he held his son close.

 

“Dad,” choked out the teen after a few, long moments that allowed Stiles to breathe more regularly. “Th-they were my _pack_ , my family. I... I should have been there. I should have protected them. I’m _supposed_ to protect them. That's how it works. Derek a-and I...”

 

“I'm sorry. Son, I’m _so_ sorry.” It was all John Stilinski could say, though he knew it was not enough as he pressed a kiss to the side of his son's head, holding the teen close. He had no idea that Derek and _everyone_ was so important to his son. He had thought, or maybe it was a _hope_ , that it was all just a phase, that Stiles would move on. He was the one to blame for Stiles blaming himself for not being there. If it weren't for him, Stiles would have been there, and that blame would need not exist. “We'll find the rest of them, okay? We'll... They're going to be fine. Derek, and Scott... they're a force to be reckoned with.”

 

Stiles laughed softly and reached up to wipe angrily at his face, as if the tears that trekked through the dirt on his features were traitors. “You should have seen them when they actually work _together_ ,” Stiles commented, his voice and breathing still shaky, though it was better than before.

 

“I'm sure I’ll be able to, soon,” replied the sheriff, gently squeezing Stiles once again. “C'mon, let's go back and get you some water.”

 

Stiles nodded a little and let his dad lead him back to the camp, unaware that the others were watching in case they needed help until they were back in the safety of the camp boundary. It made Stiles smile faintly as he sat down next to the fire at his dad's urging. Isaac curled up at his side, resting his head on Stiles' lap while Stiles rested his head against Allison’s legs. The usually talkative teen said a quiet, “Thanks,” as he took the water and took a few sips, absentmindedly toying with Isaac’s hair with one hand.

 

“He's like a big puppy,” Lizzy commented with a soft smile, glancing over at the teens from where she was double checking the record of rations for the next few days.

 

Chris, who was assisting, looked over to where Isaac was smiling contentedly as he nuzzled against Stiles' knee. “You have no idea,” the man replied with a chuckle. He was not as resentful and quick to judge the werewolves anymore, something that had actually happened _before_ the apocalypse. It was one of the few good things to come from a psycho hunter trying to wipe out an entire species.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles did not sleep until they were on the road again, after he had given clear instructions on where they were heading. Dr. Deaton rode in one of the other vehicles that housed most of the children, spending some time distracting them. Isaac was still snuggled up to Stiles' side, and Allison was sure it would take a lot for the boy to leave Stiles anytime soon. “He missed you guys,” Allison told Isaac softly, barely above a whisper. She knew that Isaac could hear her, and Stiles would not be woken up. “He wanted to find you guys, but we had no idea where to head.”

 

“Our rendezvous point was compromised,” Isaac informed sadly, nuzzling against Stiles' shoulder. “We were supposed to meet up in the middle of the United States, but it was _crawling_ with them.”

 

“Shit,” Allison mumbled, glancing up to where her dad was sitting in the driver's seat. “Do they know? We're supposed to be heading there.”

 

Isaac nodded a little, nuzzling against Stiles again as the other teen started to stir uncomfortably, which made Stiles settle down immediately once again. “Yeah, we said so last night; Stiles altered the route. We're going to Colorado, now,” Isaac answered. He was not sure what would await them in Colorado, but he hoped it would be a good place.

 

After a long while of silence, in which Allison kept nodding off, Isaac reached over and gently tugged on her hand, wanting her to join himself and Stiles on the make-shift bed. “C'mon,” Isaac insisted. “We'll asleep better if you're here.”

 

Allison seemed skeptical for a moment, but finally she climbed into the bed, and the three teens stayed cuddled together as close as possible, and Allison watched as Stiles visibly relaxed even more, causing Isaac do the same. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but thought better of it as Isaac smiled softly at her. “You're pack, too, y'know,” he reminded her. “Human, or not, you're important.”


	3. Entry Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A werewolf stumbles upon the pack, but that, as it seems, is going to be the least of the caravan's worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story and continues to enjoy it. :)

_It's good to have Isaac and Dr. Deaton with us. Allison seems a lot more relaxed with more familiar faces with us. I guess it makes it easier to believe the others are okay now that we know that at least two of the pack are._

 

_We've had to alter our route several times because of blocked roads. The plant life is taking back over in some areas. It's a bit scary, to be honest. We heard some wolves when we were camped last night. At first, we had hoped... but Isaac had sadly informed us that they were **just** wolves. Allison hasn't really smiled since. We've lost a few more members, including Alisa. She was only eleven._

 

_We picked up a dog. We named her Lydia. Her fur is red. Isaac cried, but that's our secret. Allison probably knows, though. She's smart like that. We're seeing less and less zombies the closer to Colorado that we get. Honestly, I’m not sure if that's a good thing or not. What if there's a reason? Like, what if there's something that's **worse** over this way? Dad says I’m worrying myself too much. It's better to prepare for the worst, though, right?_

 

_\- Stiles_

 

 

Stiles sighed and looked up to where Allison was sleeping and Isaac was reading some book that they had found along the way. He opened his mouth to say something to the boy, but never got the words out because something hit the side of the RV, causing the whole thing to shake and veer off course complete with a loud _thump!_. Isaac tensed as John stopped the vehicle and said, “What the hell was that?”

 

“Why are we stopping?” came Lizzy’s voice over the radio, crackling a bit.

 

“Something hit us,” Chris answered her as Stiles got up to head to the door, grabbing his gun as he went.

 

Isaac quickly grabbed the other boy's wrist, shaking his head a little. “What is it?” mouthed Stiles, brow furrowing a little while he could not exactly explain his sudden thought to be quiet.

 

“Werewolf,” Isaac answered silently with a frown before gesturing to himself.

 

The werewolf was unfamiliar, but Isaac knew it was there. He disentangled himself from Allison, making Stiles sit back down. He then went to the door as Chris told everyone else to stay in their vehicles. Isaac carefully slipped outside, looking around; and, Lizzy swore for a moment that she saw the boy's eyes flash gold. Isaac’s senses were not as sharp as he would have liked; but, he was still technically in senses training. He wished Derek was there.

 

Lizzy shifted in her seat, her grip tight on her steering wheel as she tried to figure out what was going on. Why were _they_ told to stay in their cars, but the puppy-like kid gets out and looks around. She knew that she had to be missing something. Lizzy frowned faintly as she noticed the curly-haired boy tense, spinning around just in time to be tackled to the ground by someone. It took only a moment before Isaac was kicking up, flipping the attacker forward off of him. Isaac turned over so that he was on his hands and knees and what Lizzy saw in the headlights of her car made her tense, glad that none of the cars behind her could see. “Deaton...” she said slowly, glancing over to the veterinarian that was sitting calmly in the passenger seat.

 

“It's okay, dear,” he said with a warm smile. “Isaac has this one; and, he's got Stiles for backup if it's needed.”

 

“Backup? Wh-what are they?

 

“Stiles is very much human, I assure you. Isaac is... well, we'll explain it at the next stop,” the man assured her, nodding a little as he watched Isaac fighting with the unknown werewolf until the curly-haired teen had the other pinned to the ground.

 

They watched in silence as Isaac seemed to be talking to the slowly shifting back to normal werewolf on the ground. “What do you want?” Isaac all but growled at the man beneath him. He did not let up on his nearly bruising grip on the guy's shoulders, though he did slowly shift back as well, eyes flashing gold once again as his gaze flicked toward the RV, where Stiles was coming outside.

 

The man on the ground looked back and forth between Stiles and Isaac a few times before laughing a little, “You've a pack? You're just a Beta.”

 

“We're looking for our Alpha, now what do _you_ want?”

 

The amused expression fell from the nameless man's face as he looked between the two again, as if trying to decide if Isaac was hiding a lie or telling the truth. “You have an alpha?”

 

Isaac let up on the man and stood up, immediately understanding. The Omega on the ground was searching for an Alpha. He had sensed a werewolf in general and wanted to investigate. Stiles seemed to understand that bit as well, though neither of them were comfortable with the idea of letting an _unknown_ werewolf join their caravan. There were too many risks and lives in danger. There was only so much that could be done to keep a rogue Omega in line. “Sorry, buddy, you'll have to find your own,” Stiles stated, crossing his arms over his chest. He had worked too hard to keep everyone safe from zombies. The last thing he needed to do was to keep them safe from a wandering wolf. “So, turn tail and keep going, alright?”

 

“I don't take orders from a _human_ , someone's pack or not,” sneered the nameless man, immediately causing Isaac to tense and growl at the man, throwing an arm out in front of Stiles to move him back. The man did not need to know that Stiles was every bit as much as the Alpha of the pack as Derek was. “Relax, pup; I won't touch him.”

 

It was obvious that neither Isaac nor Stiles trusted the guy, if the way Stiles grip on the handle of his gun tightened was any indication. “Should we...?” Lizzy started to ask, trailing off when Dr. Deaton shook his head.

 

“No, this is a dispute none of us want to get involved in. It's... sensitive and territorial,” the man replied, nodding a little. He made a mental note to check his supply of mountain ash once they stopped. He did not believe for a moment that it would be the last that they saw of the werewolf that was running off. From the look that he saw Isaac and Stiles share, the teens did not believe so either. He could clearly see Stiles say something about it being too easy.

 

“Don't say that,” whined Isaac, quickly looking around them. “Let's just g-- Shit, shit, fuck. Stiles.”

 

Stiles did not even need to look to see what had Isaac tensing up. They had stopped for too long, drawn attention. “Fuck, Isaac, can we get out of here bef--?” Stiles tried to ask about the possibility of the entire caravan speeding out of there before the zombies were on them, but Isaac shook his head before the question was out and he knew. They were much too close. “Dad! Chris! We've got company!” he called after taking a second to breathe.

 

Lizzy’s eyes widened and she swore as she grabbed her shotgun, climbing out of the car along with Dr. Deaton. All of the adults and older kids climbed out of the cars, weapons at the ready. “How many Isaac?” questioned the veterinarian, trying to see the zombies they could hear moving out of their line of sight.

 

“I-I don't...” the werewolf mumbled to himself, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment while trying to make himself focus. It was a group of them, they were circling them in. “Fuck.” They were getting smarter. “There's... it's...” ' _Count them, Isaac. Focus, and count them._ ' He seemed completely overwhelmed, trying to focus on words instead of the instinct to _shift_ and _protect_. He was moving in front of Stiles, trying to put himself between the other teen and the threat. Once Stiles squeezed his shoulder, softly encouraging him that he could do it, Isaac’s head cleared a bit. Stiles was right. He was a member of the _Hale pack_ , alphas and hunters alike feared them. Stiles and Allison were there and needed his protection, they needed to know what they were up against and if it was better to fight or try to run. “Thirty-five, there's thirty-five.”

 

He barely had the words out before a gunshot was heard from the end of the caravan, and they could hear some of the children screaming. Eyes were on Lizzy to make the final decision: fight or flight. She looked to Stiles, as if judging his opinion, but the teen's face was decidedly blank. “Let's do this,” she said, sealing her decision. They were going to stay and take out every one of those motherfuckers.

 

It all happened in a matter of moments, the conversations, the circling, and then, there was the attack. There was a rush by a dozen or so of them, and the caravan immediately began to fight. Allison was perched on top of the RV, already nocking her third arrow. Stiles held steady aim as he stood back-to-back with his father, reminding himself to breathe as they moved, avoiding being so much as touched by as many of those things as possible. Stiles lost track of Isaac, but he could hear the werewolf somewhere nearby. He knew Chris was nearby, and could hear him helping keep the children protected in the van behind Lizzy and Deaton's car. Stiles was not sure what Deaton was doing, but he watched as a couple of the guys whose names he never learned were taken out by a few zombies that they'd allowed to sneak up behind them. Rule one: never leave your back open with zombies around. Rookie mistake, Stiles thought with a frown, reloading his gun to take out one of the zombies that was attempting to climb up the side of the RV.

 

“Thanks!” Allison called over the sounds of the moans that the zombies made, nocking another arrow before using it to take down a zombie that was trying to move up behind her father. Chris immediately spun around and finished the zombie off as it hit the ground.

 

“Shit, I’m out!” Stiles called, realizing that he did not have any extra ammo _on_ him. It was all inside the RV. He quickly dropped the unneeded gun since he still had the other inside the RV as well and drew a knife out of his boot that had been sheathed and hidden right along the side of his leg.

 

He knew it was a bit too short, but he just needed _something_ of assistance to help him get back to the RV where he'd grab the closest, better weapon that he could get his hands on. “Stiles!” warned Allison, making him duck enough for her to take out the zombie that was rushing up behind him, taking it out with a direct headshot as Stiles made a rather impressive dive roll that he was unsure he would ever be able to duplicate toward the door to the RV. He quickly reached in and grabbed a metal, magically reinforced with the runes littering it, baseball bat that was next to the door. He heard his father shout another warning just in time for him to turn around, swinging the bat and knocking the zombie that had got him in its sights away, a sickening _crack!_ reaching their ears from the force of the blow.

 

There were shouts and screams filling the air, mixing with crying, gunshots, and arrows whizzing through the air mingling with the resonating sound of the baseball bat making connection with decaying forms, intermixed with growls and the sounds of necks being broken. Slowly, as light started to creep up over the eastern horizon, the sounds started to die out until the only ones left standing were the remaining members of the caravan. They were down by five.

 

Not soon enough in anyone's opinion, the smaller group found themselves on the road again, trying to make as best time they could to make up for the traveling they had lost that night. Stiles breathed shakily as he tried to get his hands to steady while Allison drove. His dad was with Deaton, helping to patch up a few of the injured that had not been bitten while Chris was trying to rest in the passenger seat. Stiles closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall as he took a few moments to try to gather himself. He needed to take some Adderall, and soon; but, he was not willing to move for it just yet. He felt like his knees might give out if he tried to move. He knew that he had just been doing what he needed to in order to survive; but, still, those had been people with families. They may not have been people anymore, but it was still difficult for him to handle sometimes. He was not made to kill things.

 

Stiles got up eventually and downed a couple of his Adderall pills, chasing them with water as he leaned against the counter, glancing over toward Isaac, who looked pale as a ghost. The curly-haired boy was not saying anything, just sitting there staring at a spot on the wall. “Isaac?” Stiles asked, brow furrowing as he capped his water bottle, going over to sit down next to the other boy. “Hey, man, talk to me, what's...?” He let his question die off as he noticed Isaac moving, though he was not getting up. Isaac was pulling up the hem of his t-shirt. Stiles was not sure why at first, but then, after a few moments, his breath got stuck in his throat. There, on Isaac’s side was a nasty looking bite that was not healing. It looked much like the wound Derek had sported when he had been shot with a wolvesbane bullet; only, Stiles knew that there was nothing to do with wolvesbane with that bite. “Isaac...”

 

“Jesus,” Chris swore, closing his eyes for a moment, having turned around to see what was going on.

 

“Dad, what's going on?” Allison asked, and Stiles did not need werewolf senses to know that she was panicking a bit, trying to look in the rear-view mirror to see Isaac and Stiles, though she could not.

 

The man swallowed thickly, running a hand through his slightly matted and unruly hair. “Isaac... Isaac’s been bitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Don't hate me? D:


	4. Entry Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More reunions and some flaming plants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I think I drink too much caffeine. Just sayin'.

_Isaac still isn't healing. He's getting worse, but it's slower than it is with everyone else. We're almost to where it is speculated that there is a survivor encampment. Deaton and I have been doing some thinking and research. We think that there is a chance that mountain ash or even a type of wolfsbane might help Isaac. While it would not really work with a human, with Isaac’s wolfy powers, it would be different. Deaton explained to the rest of the camp about werewolves and magic. They took it surprisingly well. Then again, after running around in a world full of zombies, it is rather difficult to think anything impossible anymore._

 

_I’m almost out of Adderall and there has not been any at our last few stops. I’m saving them up as much as possible, only taking one when I get really bad. Isaac keeps scowling at me; my dad hasn't noticed yet. Allison has not said anything since finding out that Isaac was bitten, but she rarely leaves his side. My dad and Chris have been talking all secret like lately. I’m not sure what about exactly, but I have a feeling it's about Isaac and what we're going to do if things go bad._

 

_We're camped for the night and our perimeter is set up, good to go. Lizzy is starting to get anxious, but I think we all are. This is our last strand of **hope**. I just hope it's not lost._

 

_\- Stiles_

 

 

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head on the table in front of him as he sat alone in the RV. He felt exhausted, completely drained in a way that he had not felt in a long while. It was worse than the alpha pack. Stiles missed his Catwoman, and he even missed Boyd's … hisness. While he and Stiles had never been all that close, the guy was still a good guy and did not deserve to die. Neither did Lydia. Stiles' stomach knotted painfully at the thought of her and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Five...” he breathed slowly, counting down to zero and back up to ten before he was slightly startled by a whine and a nudge against his leg.

 

He lifted his head enough to see the dog they had adopted, Lydia, sitting there with a slight wag of her tail. “Thanks,” Stiles mumbled, reaching out to scratch her behind an ear. She just nudged him again before standing up, a clear sign that she wanted to go outside. “Yeah, okay.”

 

With a nod, Stiles got up, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair before heading outside with the dog at his side. Lydia immediately ran off to find someone else in the camp, probably his dad. His dad always had some kind of a treat for the dog. It made Stiles smile faintly, at least until his gaze landed on the fire set up in the middle of the camp. Isaac was really not looking good in the slightest.

 

Isaac’s face was flushed and there was sweat beading on his brow, but he was shaking as if he was cold, curled up on his side with his head resting on Allison’s lap. She ran a hand through Isaac’s curls, mumbling soothing words that she was not sure got across. Stiles' heart began to pound painfully in his chest as he walked over to them. Why had no one come to tell him it had gotten so bad? Allison glanced up at him with a soft frown. “I'm not sure he even knows where we are,” she said softly, her shaky voice nearly breaking completely. “He's been talking to Jackson like he's here.”

 

It probably was not the most self-preserved action for Stiles to settled down in front of Isaac, snuggling close to the front of a delusional werewolf running a fever he, by all rights, should not even have. Stiles did not care, though, squeezing his eyes shut as he gently squeezed Isaac’s arm before simply brushing his fingers along the length of it repeatedly, rambling about life back in Beacon Hills and how they were going to reunite with the pack, and how Isaac will never be able to find better cuddle partners than himself and Allison. “We need you here, Isaac, okay? So, just... just stay with us,” Stiles mumbled, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Pack means family. Family means no one gets left behind. Yes, that's a Disney reference. Suck it up, bucko.”

 

Stiles swore he heard a slight huff of laughter from Isaac, but the other teen's eyes never opened. The slightly younger of the two frowned and pressed a kiss to Isaac’s forehead, brushing his hair back out of his face before glancing up at Allison, whose gaze was on her father. Chris was walking their direction with a clean rag and some water. “It's not ice water, but I figure it can't hurt,” the man said, holding the two items out.

 

Allison was the one to reach out and take them, getting some of the water on the rag to hold against the back of Isaac’s neck and his forehead. Stiles lay there for a moment longer before quickly getting up to pull Chris into a tight hug that surprised them both for a moment, though the man returned it with a slight pat to Stiles' back. “Thanks,” Stiles mumbled, knowing that playing nurse to a werewolf, no matter how much Chris had put aside differences, was not at the top of the other man's to-do list with his life. After a moment of the embrace that Stiles needed much more than he would ever admit, the teen pulled away and managed a weak smile, glancing over to where Allison was using the water to clean the bite wound on Isaac’s side as well as she could with irritating it or hurting their injured friend any. “Where's Deaton? Things are... bad. He and I... we, uh... we've got a few plans, but... I can't do this... I need him to be here.”

 

“We're not sure where he is, Stiles,” Chris said after a moment of silence with a deep frown, reaching out to gently squeeze Stiles' shoulder when the teen just stood there in silent shock.

 

It took only a moment longer before Stiles was scrambling toward the RV to grab one of the walkie-talkies they had in there. Surely the man was not stupid enough to go off without one. “Deaton, I swear to god...” Stiles said into the mic of the one he turned on the moment that he got it on, switching the channel after a few long moments of silence since there was no designated one.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The veterinarian had not wandered off too far. He did have a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt, and he had a gun on him as well as a flashlight in his hand. He had a bag on his back with some empty containers, and the man continued his search. Alan knew that he was getting a bit far from the camp, but this needed to be done. Somebody had to get out there and find what he and Stiles would need, and they were running out of time. Isaac’s infection was growing, albeit a lot slower than if he was human. It hurt _him_ to watch the teen struggling with it. They had thought that maybe kick starting the healing process would help, but it did nothing. His broken finger had healed, the bite did not.

 

Alan sighed heavily and knelt down next to the plant that he needed, gathering a decent amount in one of the containers before moving on to the next. He was in the middle of gathering the second plant when he felt the eyes on his back that made the small hairs on his skin stand on end. However, Alan Deaton did not tense or turn around. He simply smiled as he closed the second container and placed it into the bag that he had brought with him. “Hello, Jackson,” the man said calmly, closing the bag before standing up straight once again. He turned around to face the teen behind him, flashlight beam aimed down at Jackson’s feet as to not blind him. Jackson just _stared_ , as if he was trying to figure out if it was really Dr. Deaton that he could smell underneath the death, decay, and residual grime that seemed to linger on those who had not found a decent camp.

 

“Yes, Jackson, it's really me,” the man insisted with a nod. “Now, if you don't mind, I must get back to our camp. Isaac needs a bit of help, see?”

 

“Isaac?” questioned Jackson, the name practically getting stuck in his throat as he tried not to let the emotions he felt show on his face. “You're both...?”

 

“Come see.”

 

Jackson glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his own camp, which was still quite a few miles away but not out of the range of him being able to call for help if needed, but then he looked back to the veterinarian that he knew well and nodded before following after him. They had only made it a few feet when a voice crackled over the walkie-talkie clipped to Deaton's belt that had Jackson tensing at the familiarity. “ _I swear to_ _ **god**_ _, Deaton, if you do not answer I’m going to... to... I don't know, but it will be violent!_ ” Stiles insisted, growing more frantic the longer he could not get a hold of the man.

 

“Stiles?” questioned Jackson, his brow furrowing as he fought back his want to get too excited about anything. There was no need to alert the others to anything just yet. It was still dangerous with it being dark out. Jackson was supposed to be back at camp hours ago, but he had gotten distracted by the faint sense of familiarity and he could not stay away.

 

Deaton simply nodded as he unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt and pressed the button on the side to say, “Relax, Stilinski. I’m heading back to camp now. I’ve got a few... provisions.” He smiled a little to himself when he heard Stiles sigh in relief over the radio. “I'm also bringing back a friend.”

 

Instead of answering Stiles' endless questions, Alan simply switched off his walkie and continued to walk toward the camp. He watched as Jackson tensed the closer to the ring of light from the camp that they got. He could understand, there were a lot of strangers about. Jackson’s gaze flitted from the two familiar faces near the edge of camp, Argent and the sheriff, to the unfamiliar ones only to finally settle on Allison and Isaac on the ground near the fire. Jackson’s breath caught in his chest but he continued to walk, fighting back his want to howl in _pain_ as he watched Isaac’s brow furrow.

 

His gaze only lifted from Isaac when the sound of the RV door opening caught Jackson’s attention and he looked up to see Stiles, who looked as though he had seen a ghost. Jackson did not flinch when Stiles was suddenly _there_ and hugging him. The slightly broader teen was tense for a few long moments before he relented and returned the hug, something that never would have occurred before. The world was different, though, and Stiles was _pack_ and he was safe and so was Allison and it felt like a huge _weight_ was lifted off of him until he looked back to Isaac as Stiles pulled away. “What's wrong with him?” Jackson finally choked out, clenching and unclenching his fists as he fought to stay in control.

 

Stiles glanced over at Deaton, who was kneeling down on the ground next to Isaac, pulling out the two containers of wolfsbane and mountain ash that he had gathered, and then he looked back to Jackson, absently wetting his lips. “He was bitten,” Stiles answered in a shaky voice. “We're going to... We think something might work, though. Not for... for _everyone_ , but for the werewolves, anyway.”

 

However, they all knew the unspoken truth there. If a cure could be found with a mix of magic and werewolf blood, they may have found a way to save people in general. “Stiles,” Deaton said softly, catching the boy's attention. He would need Stiles' assistance with something so delicate.

 

Jackson nodded stiffly, clenching his jaw as he moved to sit down next to Allison, reaching out a shaky hand to slip into Isaac’s curls, wrapping an arm around Allison’s waist. As much as they all wanted to question, to have a proper and happy reunion, Isaac was their biggest priority. Stiles was acutely aware of the entire camp trying to subtly watch him and Deaton as they focused on mixing the two plants, mumbling to one another on how much they should use and what they should focus on.

 

“This isn't enough to kill him?” questioned the teen with a shaky breath, using his knife to cut the plant into a very fine powder (well, as fine as their crude instruments would allow).

 

“No, but it might burn.”

 

Lizzy frowned faintly as she lightly tapped Chris Argent's arm, getting his attention from the little group on the ground. “What's going on?” she asked softly, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was they were doing. “Who's that?”

 

“Who? Jackson? He's another friend of the kids',” Chris answered with a nod as Allison leaned against Jackson a little bit more. “Deaton and Stiles are going to try to help Isaac with a little bit of help from nature. It's... we don't _know_ if it will work, and it's not been something we could try before so it's a bit of an experiment. I just... Isaac’s a good kid.”

 

Lizzy squeezed Chris' arm gently with a faint smile of reassurance before glancing over at John Stilinski, who looked every bit the part of a man who was powerless to help those that he used to put his life on the line for, that he _still_ put his life on the line for. It was saddening, but the hope that Stiles seemed to exude with his actions let Lizzy think that maybe, just maybe they might be able to save the kid that was shivering on the ground. “Shit, I don't have a lighter,” Stiles said after a few moments, only to nod a little in thanks when Jackson handed him what appeared to be a black zippo.

 

The caravan's leader did not take her focus off the little group, knowing that their scouts would let them know if they had unwanted company, and watched as Stiles took the lighter and used it to light the small pile of plant parts. “Move his shirt, Allison,” Deaton instructed. There seemed to be a weird... _feeling_ radiating from the group that made the hairs on Lizzy’s arms prickle a bit.

 

Stiles said something under his breath before he and Deaton each took a handful of the ash they created and took it to either side of the bite wound on Isaac’s side, pressing the gray powder into the open wound along every inch of it. Isaac cried out and tried to arch way from it, his face scrunching up as he tensed up and squirmed on Jackson and Allison’s laps, though the two of them did their best to keep him in place.

 

Everyone watching seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting for... something. They did not know what they were waiting for, though John seemed two seconds away from going over to his son who seemed near tears, the teen not looking away from Isaac. “Believe,” Stiles mumbled to himself, taking a deep, shaky breath as he reached out to grab one of Allison’s hands. He seemed to be pleading under his breath and Lizzy found herself joining in John's want to go over to him. Nothing seemed to be happening besides Isaac slowly starting to still.

 

Allison let out a soft, breathless laugh, however, and they all looked once again as the darkened lines underneath Isaac’s skin slowly started to fade, as if the infection were crawling back from where it had spread. The skin seemed to return to normal, albeit a bit more pale than it should be and a small stream of some black liquid seemed to seep out of the wound, which Deaton wiped up with some kind of towel he had in his bag, and when he pulled it away, instead of there being an open wound there was nothing left but a shiny, new scar. Isaac was still unconscious, but his breath was no longer as labored and he was no longer shaking. Jackson noted softly that Isaac’s heartbeat was not as erratic as it had been when he had gotten there, either.

 

There were breaths of relief all around and Stiles let out a noise that was a mix between a laugh and a sob as Isaac slowly blinked his eyes open and looked around. “Don't ever do that to me again, you stupid, stupid pup!” Stiles insisted, before all but falling on top of Isaac with a hug, grinning brightly.

 

Isaac seemed confused for a moment but he slowly sat up, keeping an arm around Stiles' waist so that he was still hugging the other boy. “What happened?” he asked with a scratchy voice. The last thing he could clearly remember was being on the RV sometime the day before. “I-- Jackson?” He let out a soft whimper before he let go of Stiles and all but climbed onto Jackson’s lap with a death grip of a hug that caused both the boys to relax. Stiles was almost upset that Isaac had so carelessly pushed him aside, almost; but, the way that Jackson held the other boy close as if he was terrified Isaac was going to disappear completely pushed aside that irritation.

 

Isaac had not actually said that things had changed between himself and Jackson since Stiles had left, but there had been enough hints; and, the way that Jackson hid his face in Isaac’s shoulder, speaking too low for any of the humans to hear had everyone deciding to give the two a few moments of peace in which Allison and Stiles went to their respective fathers to give them hugs, letting out heavy sighs of relief.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Morning light had the caravan on their way again, following Jackson’s directing toward what he said was a rather large camp of survivors. They even had running water and _beds_. Allison was unable to keep still, fidgeting in her seat more than Stiles was. She bounced her knee and wrung her hands together in her seat, glancing periodically over at Jackson and Isaac, who were snuggled up together on one seat, from the spot out the windshield that her gaze was stuck on. Stiles was keeping himself distracted by talking with Chris about how they would need to possibly try to find a way to figure out if using a bit of werewolf blood and the mix that he and Deaton had created to cure a _human_. It was only a slight chance of working; but, then again, saving Isaac had only been a slight chance as well.

 

They were not quite within the safety of the camp, who were holed up in the middle of a deserted town, using the outskirts as a well protected boundary, when John had to pull the car to a stop because of someone guarding the way. Jackson rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That's Alex,” he said with a frown. “The dude only thinks he's big and bad, but _Stiles_ could have taken him on before werewolf training.”  
  


“Hey! I feel as if that was meant to be an insult and I am insulted,” replied Stiles, though he was smiling slightly, knowing that Jackson was simply teasing, as Jackson got out of the RV to talk to the guy. He seemed completely skeptical, but ended up agreeing and moved aside, gesturing for a few of the people watching the boundary to move the gate enough to let the vehicles pass.

 

Once they actually pulled to a stop in the middle of the town, everyone got out of the cars and looked around for a moment. They were barely out there two minutes before Allison found herself being wrapped up in familiar arms that made her practically scream in excitement and pure joy. “Scott!” she said through a laugh as she hugged him tightly, not wanting to let him go at all.

 

Jackson rolled his eyes and made a comment about how they were pathetic, but he smiled a little, his own fingers hooked through one of Isaac’s belt loops. Stiles could not keep from smiling brightly as he watched his best friend be reunited with the only girl that Scott would love. As much as he did resent them a little when they first got together, Stiles wanted nothing more than his best friend's happiness. John chuckled a little while Chris and Lizzy seemed to be talking to one of the other town inhabitants that actually approached them to try to introduce herself and her family. They seemed to be attracting quite a lot of attention as many residents in the small town that was trying to find a way to rebuild and regroup in the new world came out to introduce themselves and get a feel for the newest survivors to arrive.

 

John's focus was not on any of them, however, but on his son, whose tired gaze seemed to flit from one person to the next in the crowd. The sheriff knew who Stiles was looking for, and he silently prayed that the eighteen-year-old would find him. It only took a few moments longer before Stiles stopped and John followed his son's gaze to a few hundred feet away where Derek Hale was exiting one of the houses slowly, almost unsure with a hopeful expression that he did not even bother to hide despite his fearful tension that the sheriff could see even from that distance. “Derek,” Stiles said softly, too quiet for his father to hear, but the way that Derek visibly relaxed led the man to believe that it was not too little for the other man to make out despite the other voices.

 

Scott smiled as he looked from Allison to where his best friend was making his way through the people that were crowding around, directly toward Derek. Stiles stopped directly in front of the alpha, almost holding his breath for a moment before Derek pulled him in close enough to hug him tightly as Scott laughed and smiled with a shake of his head. Their broken pack was reunited, and, at least for the moment, everything was going to be okay. Derek practically lifted Stiles off of the ground with the strength of his hug, not hurting the teen for an instant and Stiles lifted one of his legs to wrap around Derek’s waist in what in another scenario could be considered a more lewd position but was honestly just a way to pull the man even closer to himself.

 

The pack and John found themselves looking away from the tender reunion, finding it to be too much of a private moment to intrude on anymore and instead busied themselves with making sure that each other was okay and taking some time just to talk and enjoy one another's company. The minutes dragged by before John chanced a glance toward his son again, only to find that he and Derek had not really moved. Stiles had one hand tangled in Derek’s hair, the other arm wrapped tightly around the man's neck. Derek clutched onto the back of Stiles' shirt with one hand, the other resting on the teen's leg to keep him held up and close. Stiles was obviously speaking, something that would surprise no one, but he did not move his face from the place it was hidden in the juncture of Derek’s neck and shoulder.

 

Derek's eyes lifted to meet his over the distance, and instead of the anger that John had anticipated, he simply saw understanding. Derek, although he had not been happy that John was taking Stiles away, had understood why the man had felt the need to do it. He respected it, although he would never agree with it. However, Derek was past worrying about any of that. The important part was that he had Stiles in his arms again, and that, to him, was the best thing of all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Happy ending of the chapter. Chapter ending only. Story is not complete yet, so keep on the lookout for new chapters. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Enjoy the ride? XD


End file.
